


pulling me up from the underground

by inkandrainstorm



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Galra Shiro, M/M, Oral Fixation, Possessive Behaviour, belly bulge, soft sheith in love, spitting kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandrainstorm/pseuds/inkandrainstorm
Summary: Shiro tries to focus on a mission report but it's a little strenuous when sleeping Keith is sucking on his fingers.“A lot happens in your dreams.” Shiro comments, leaning into Keith’s caressing hand. “But I stand by dream-me’s promises to you.”“Sap.” Keith slaps his cheek lightly, his expression scrunching in distaste but there’s a helplessly fond glimmer in his eyes and Shiro turns into his palm, pressing his lips to the web of lines crisscrossing the soft flesh.“For you,” Shiro says unapologetically, nipping Keith’s hand as his manufactured displeasure gives way to an embarrassed smile.





	pulling me up from the underground

Shiro looks at Keith’s messy curls peeking from the blankets pulled up to the crown of his head. Keith stirs lightly against Shiro’s thigh where his face is mushed up against. Shiro always wonders how Keith can sleep with his airways blocked by the mass of Shiro’s body but if he ever tries to nudge his face towards the open air Keith gets restless until he buries himself face first in Shiro’s flesh again. He guesses it’s a comfort similar to how he can never settle in the same room as Keith if Keith isn’t within arms reach. He lifts the blanket off Keith’s face, just to make sure he’s still breathing. The imprint of the folds on Shiro’s boxers run up to Keith’s jaw. He lightly pushes Keith’s face away from his leg and traces over the marks on his cheek.

Keith murmurs something close sounding to his name and latches onto Shiro’s wrist, snuggling into his palm like it's a plushie. Shiro smiles and uses his free hand to pet the inky curls, eliciting another content sound from his boyfriend. Keith doesn’t give when he tries to pull away and get back to his tablet so Shiro lets him be, making do with one hand and going back to studying the report.

He doesn’t pay much attention to Keith shifting and moving his hand closer and closer, shaping his mouth and jaw until Shiro feels his index slip into wet warmth. It stays stationary at the wall of Keith’s clamped teeth, sheathed up to the nail. Shiro doesn’t think much of it and returns his attention to the screen. A few minutes later, Keith throws a leg over Shiro’s, his crotch pressed into Shiro’s knee and half straddling him in his sleep. A flame flickers in Shiro’s core, his mind flashing back to the countless times Keith has rutted on him to completion, riding his thigh, rubbing on his knee, doing anything to get off. But Keith is asleep right now and Shiro doesn’t want to disturb him to deal with… sticky problems so he forces his attention back to endless text that's starting to become tedious.

He has almost immersed himself again in text until his finger is moved deeper into Keith’s mouth, resting on Keith’s soft tongue and Keith starts _sucking._ Keith's eyes are still shut and there are so signs of him being aware of what he’s doing besides his hollowing cheeks. Shiro blows out a breath slowly and steers his mind away from the gutter. Keith is sleeping. Shiro will do absolutely nothing to change his state. Keith will continue sleeping.

Except Shiro can’t really ignore how Keith sucks in another finger and hums around them both. His plush lips are parted where Shiro’s big purple fingers breach, bottom lip taking the strain and jutting out. A reminiscent flash goes through Shiro’s mind, of how Keith’s lips look precisely this sinful wrapped around Shiro’s cockhead.

Shiro jerks like the thought zapped him and Keith lets out a moan. A second later Shiro realizes why, seeing Keith’s body slightly arching up, Shiro's knee digging into his crotch. 

“Sorry, baby,” he hastily apologizes in a whisper, despite knowing Keith isn’t aware of what he’s saying and drops his tablet to soothe a hand over Keith’s back, over his hair and face. He comes to the distinct bump in Keith’s cheek, where his fingers rest in Keith’s mouth and Keith lets out a little sound that Shiro can’t decipher but is pained to hear for how it goes to his cock.

God, he feels disgraceful that Keith can’t even rest without Shiro’s mind sinking to the gutters but the way Keith shifts and rubs into his knee as he resettles is not helping purify his thoughts. Keeping his thoughts virtuous in the presence of the small hybrid boy has always been challenging, right from their first meeting when Shiro was reserving a slot for the training room and saw Keith take out three gladiators alone. A single one of those things is hard as hell to beat, let alone three and Shiro didn’t know of anyone at the college who could do that besides himself and even then he hadn’t been able to do that as a freshman. Shiro never felt the urge to get on his knees as he did then, with Keith’s training suit patched in various places with sweat, his lengthy hair matted to his forehead and nape, his cheeks flushed and his chest heaving. His eyes glinted with pride and Shiro thought he would call it a day but the hybrid called out _again!_ and the stimulation began anew. The need to worship the boy in the training ring manifested in Shiro like something visceral that had always been there, waiting for the right stimulus to bloom and that stimulus was laying eyes on Keith.

Shiro tries to remove his fingers from Keith’s mouth, so he can move him off his leg and properly onto the bed before Shiro slips and wakes Keith out of need but Keith doesn’t allow him. The harder Shiro struggles to reclaim his fingers, the harder Keith clamps on them and it would be a lie to say it doesn’t sting; Keith is half Galra after all and his canines are a force.

“Keith baby,” Shiro murmurs, patting his hair like he’s placating a grumpy cat, “I’m doing this for your sake.”

Keith hums like he hears him and sucks his fingers harder, taking them deeper. Shiro groans and throws his head back against the wall. There’s no pretending that Keith is the only one getting something out of this because that’s not true. He hardens at the thought of his fingers in Keith’s mouth alone. The first time he put his fingers in Keith’s mouth was to get them wet to open him up but he didn’t anticipate that he would love not only how they looked in Keith’s mouth but how it felt too, the steady suction that wetted his skin, Keith’s tongue undulating under them, how two of his fingers were enough to stuff Keith’s mouth, how every time Keith sucked him in he brushed his throat and Keith’s wicked eyes made silent promises that almost made him spill right then before they got to anything else.

Shiro thinks of constellations, names them in his head and tries to think of days where he and Keith talked about Earth and which clusters Keith used to watch from the roof of his desert home, to calm himself, to bear through this session of Keith’s torturous whim. It almost works. Until—

Keith’s mouth parts a little and he moans something. It comes out muffled but when he repeats it Shiro makes the distinction. He’s moaning Shiro’s name. And then he shifts on Shiro’s leg and oh. _Oh._ Keith’s hard. And he’s rubbing on Shiro and sucking his fingers with slobbering desperation.

Shiro feels heat flush up to his neck, his free hand hanging in the air, uncertain.

“Keith,” he decides eventually to wake him, “Keith,” he shakes shoulder, his report forgotten and shoved away.

Keith startles awake, biting down on Shiro’s fingers, on the nail fold where it hurts most and Shiro lets out a small howl. Keith holds on, blinking lucid slowly and his innocent sleepy confusion would be quite adorable if Shiro wasn’t currently trying to not curl into a massive ball of pain.

“Keith,” he says as calmly as he can but it still comes out strained, “baby can you let go for me?” he massages Keith’s sharp chin, coaxing him into opening his mouth and Keith’s jaw slowly loosens up.

“Sorry!” he scrambles up, pushing Shiro’s hand away and edging off Shiro’s leg with wide horrified eyes. Shiro catches him around the hips before he’s fully slid onto the bed, inching him to his upper thigh where Keith can sit comfortably.

“Hi,” he smiles, pain of being bitten forgotten as he looks on Keith’s still groggy face. He sweated in his sleep and a sheen covers his skin and matts his long fringe to his forehead and tempting Shiro with the urge to brush it out of his eyes.

“Hey,” Keith returns with a lazy smile, shifting closer on his thigh and wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck.

Shiro slinks a limb around Keith’s waist, purring low at how his single hand covers the span of Keith’s midriff. His hybrid boy is tiny but he is filled with the strength of mountains and possesses the fortitude of ancient glorified warriors and there's not a single day that passes without Shiro stopping to reflect and admire him silently. “Sleep well?” there’s a teasing lilt to it and if it wasn’t obvious enough, he glances down briefly, at where Keith’s bulge presses into Shiro’s abdomen.

Keith flushes deeper, his blush coming close to resembling the purple of Galra. “Was dreaming.” he mutters, looking away.

“Is that right?” Shiro grasps his chin and turns him back, his thumb caressing the spot on Keith’s cheek where his fingers had bulged as they were sucked.

Keith nods, lips shaping in a smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes and Shiro becomes animated with worry.

“What is it, Keith?” his arm grows tighter around him and Shiro brings another palm to Keith’s back, bringing them chest to chest, hoping Keith’s heartbeat will regulate against Shiro’s and be soothed.

“Nothing,” Keith says, resting his head on Shiro’s chest and folding his arms around Shiro’s bulk to the best of his ability, “it was nothing, don’t worry.” he nuzzles into Shiro but Shiro can feel the sadness clinging about Keith like a miasma and it creates a small crack at the crest of his heart.

“Baby,” he says, coming to comb his fingers through the tangle of Keith’s hair and giving a gentle tug backwards, “it’s not nothing, you’re upset. Did something happen today?” he doesn’t remember Keith’s mood being off before they retired to Shiro’s room, nor did he hear anything about an incident involving Keith today so what could it be? Perhaps he wasn’t paying enough attention and a twinge of guilt goes through him.

“Just a dream,” Keith shrugs dismissively, “it started out bad but then it got good.” he looks up coyly, fingers sliding up Shiro’s nape, into his hair and scratching the tuft between his large pointed ears. “Do you want to know the good parts?”

Shiro would rather hear about what’s troubling Keith first but he knows Keith’s a shell that clams up tighter the harder you pry and he’ll disclose everything when he’s ready so Shiro let’s it go, gives in and lets himself ease into a teasing smile as he strokes Keith’s tented front, “I think I have an idea,”

“Mmh,” Keith agrees, his eyes becoming hooded and a little unfocused as Shiro continues to rub his hard on, “but didn’t you promise to help make my dreams come true?”

“What?” the laugh rumbles in Shiro’s chest and Keith rubs up against him like he wants to absorb the vibrations, a beautiful smile lighting up his face, “When did I make such a hefty promise?”

“Some time ago, in my dreams.” Keith says with pursed lips. Shiro leans down to capture them in a brief kiss that’s more of a suckle than anything and Keith lets out a protesting groan when he pulls away.

“A lot happens in your dreams.” Shiro comments, leaning into Keith’s caressing hand. “But I stand by dream-me’s promises to you.”

“Sap.” Keith slaps his cheek lightly, his expression scrunching in distaste but there’s a helplessly fond glimmer in his eyes and Shiro turns into his palm, pressing his lips to the web of lines crisscrossing the soft flesh.

“For you,” Shiro says unapologetically, nipping Keith’s hand as his manufactured displeasure gives way to an embarrassed smile. “Tell me what you dreamt, baby. Must be good since you made a meal of my fingers.”

“That’s not true!” Keith scowls, hands dropping from Shiro’s face, “You’re exaggerating. I may have been asleep but you—”

The rest of his sentence is lost to Shiro’s fingers muffling everything that comes out of his mouth as he pushes a large finger into Keith’s mouth and like an effective gag, Keith falls silent at once. His mouth closes around the digit and he sucks deeper, once, pause, twice, pause, scowl like he doesn't want to be sucking but can’t help it.

Shiro snorts, “You see? I’m not exaggerating anything.” he crooks his fingers inside, delving deeper and downwards towards Keith’s throat and Keith’s chest gives a small heave as his reflex kicks in but Keith’s face grows relaxed, eyes hazy, body melding into Shiro’s like he’s been conditioned to find comfort in having his throat filled. With no small amount of desire, Shiro realizes that he has. Keith definitely makes a sport of having his mouth filled with Shiro.

“You said my name a few times.” Shiro murmurs, starting to move his fingers, starting to inch out a bit and shove back in to the hilt, “The good part of your dream, I’m hoping.”

Keith nods, his eyes trained on Shiro’s hand, Shiro’s finger in his mouth. He curls his tongue around the finger, swallows around it, presses it to the roof of his mouth as Shiro slides out, creating a drag that chafes and lets his teeth scrape along too.

“Damn, baby,” Shiro curses softly, removing his finger, Keith’s spittle covering the length of it, spread down the back of his palm and to his wrist, Keith’s mouth shining and small rivulets of drool running out the sides helplessly.

Keith takes the same hand and brings it to his crotch, Shiro engfulging the bulge entirely and making him hiss. “In the dream,” Keith starts, curling into Shiro, pressing into his hand, tucking into his neck and kissing beneath his jaw, “you were making me yours. You made me yours in the way only you can. You filled me up, with your fingers, with your hands, with your cock. You marked me with your cum, you marked me with your spit, your mouth. You marked me _everywhere,_ Shiro. It was so _good.”_ he says breathlessly into Shiro’s neck, grinding slowly into his hand and Shiro’s hard in seconds, clothed cock straining against Keith’s briefed ass and aching to push in.

_“Keith,”_

“Shiro,” Keith whispers, his voice sounding brittle as he continues to rut in Shiro’s lap, more insistently, more desperately, “Shiro you slapped my face until I was red and you spat in my mouth and you said…” Keith’s breath snags, he pauses, breathes heavily. Shiro tugs his face back, instantly concerned by the glassy quality to Keith’s eyes.

“What is it, baby? Did I say something mean?” his heart seizes up at the thought, his arm curling protectively around Keith, tighter and tighter until they’re crushed together and the fury at himself at what he may have done expanding in his chest has nowhere to escape to.

“You said that I’m yours, that I belong with you.”

“Oh,” Shiro deflates, almost sagging with relief. “Oh.”

_Oh._ He knows what this is about, he knows what came in the dream before the good part. His relief is short lived and morphs into a runny feeling of gloom.

“Keith,” he cups Keith’s face, brushes the thick flyaways down, grips his thin nape, holds him closer, filled with the overwhelming need to touch Keith everywhere, to lay him down and cover him with his body and physically make him feel Shiro’s love for him, “you do baby, you belong with me. You’re mine.” he squeezes him tighter, careful not to crush his ribs, until their faces are together, foreheads touching, nose to nose.

“I don’t want to dwell on the bad, Shiro.” Keith whispers, their lips brushing as he speaks and for a brief second Shiro gets distracted and has a good mind to take Keith’s bottom lips between his teeth, “The rest of it was so good. Make it good right here, right now too.”

“Of course,” Shiro kisses him, soft and deep. Keith relaxes into him again and Shiro feels himself do the same, his frame melting around Keith’s like molten metal. He breaks the kiss gently as something occurs to him. He traces Keith’s open mouth, a throb going through his cock at Keith closing his lips around his thumb and sucking eagerly, filled with evident want as he looks Shiro in the eye. “I can’t hurt you, Keith.”

“Don’t want you to hurt me,” Keith shakes his head, kissing Shiro's fingertip, “I want to be yours. Make me yours Shiro, please.”

When Keith’s voice is laced and layered with plea like that, who is Shiro to deny? He could never and it’s a fact that’s wrapped around his ribcage like a chain, heavy and comforting, a compass that will push him towards doing right by Keith, always.

“Suck, like you did for me in your dream.”

Keith does as he’s instructed and goes beyond, taking in two more, his mouth barely able to fit them all. Spit escapes down his chin, down Shiro’s arm, as he sucks and slobbers and moans around them. Shiro watches him, enraptured and barely keeping himself from rutting up into Keith until he comes but part of his focus is also on multitasking, trying to shove down Keith’s tight briefs that leave nothing to the imagination. He manages to push them as far as Keith’s thighs and with plenty of access to Keith’s ass where it spills over the constraints of the underwear in two full cheeks, Shiro is satisfied to get on with his intentions.

Keith gives a hiccup and a start as Shiro forces his asscheeks apart and sets a blunt nail against the puckered rim. He nods frantically and wiggles his hips to try and force Shiro in but Shiro retracts his fingers from his mouth and grabs his hip haltingly. Keith lets out a despaired cry, too far gone today to restrain himself or try to play nonchalant for as long as possible.

“Ssh baby,” Shiro presses a short soothing kiss to Keith’s open mouth, finger still teasing his entrance, “not going to hurt you, remember?”

“Hurry up,” Keith rolls his hips, huffing a little and Shiro represses a laugh.

He reaches over to the nightstand, opens the drawer and takes out the bottle sitting close to the edge.

“Impatient.” Shiro nudges Keith’s nose with his, making short work of squeezing a generous amount of lube onto his fingers behind Keith's back and finds the tight puckered ring of muscle again.

“Patience yields focus?” Keith snorts, crossing his arms and evading the kisses Shiro wants to shower across his elegant cheekbone.

“You know it, baby,” Shiro grins and tips forward on Keith as his finger slowly sinks into him from behind and pushes him into Shiro.

Shiro takes the chance to kiss the long narrow stretch of Keith’s neck as Keith continues to turn up his nose in mock disdain, licking the salty sweat off his skin, all the way around to his nape where it’s moist from the heated dreams and the taking advantage of Shiro’s leg that he did. Shiro loves the taste of Keith, loves the distinct smell of berry and wilderness and firestorm that clings to him.

“Keith,” Shiro moans, licking up a thick stripe of Keith’s throat, feeling the way Keith’s Adam apple bobs and his pulse spikes, “Keith baby _why_ do you taste so good?”

Keith groans, his head lolling back as Shiro sucks hard—definitely a bruise—and Shiro brings a hand to the back of his head to hold him up as he continues ravaging his neck.

Shiro is so turned on, he could come with just Keith writhing on his lap like this, enticed by the smell of him, by the taste of his skin, by his obvious need for Shiro that’s still painfully evident against his torso.

Keith turns his face into Shiro’s neck, gasping against him. “I could ask you the same,” he says, licking Shiro back, salt and sweat and lightly furry skin. He sinks his teeth in, biting ‘til it’s almost painful but god, it’s not, _it’s not._ It makes Shiro ache and he’s so tempted to instruct Keith to go harder and draw blood if he can.

“Oh, baby,” he moans, temporarily losing mobility as Keith kisses and sucks and bites his neck with fiendish enthusiasm, controlling Shiro's neck with hands on either side.

“Shiro, come on,” Keith takes a moment to breathe, to plead, “I want you inside me.” he pushes his hips down, sending Shiro’s three fingers inside him deeper, grinding firmly over Shiro’s rock hard cock.

He has just about had enough too, he needs to be wrapped in Keith, fulfill Keith’s dream of owning him inside out.

He worms a hand underneath Keith’s bottom and holds him up, prying a surprised gasp from the latter’s lips. He quickly rids himself of his loose boxers, kicking them off. His cock springs out, solid and throbbing and all veins prominent with arousal. He sets Keith back onto his naked lap and Keith’s eyes go hazy as he feels Shiro’s taut heavy balls rub against his own. Shiro takes Keith’s cheeks and parts them for his cock to slip between. He twists until his blunt leaking head is aligned with Keith’s hole. And then he lowers Keith down onto his cock, the prepped opening taking him in slow and reluctant and eliciting small rough sounds from Keith.

“There you go,” Shiro soothes, settling a hand on the small of Keith’s back and helping ground him as he adjusts, “there you go.” he kisses Keith’s forehead and cups his ass, his palms overlapping and more than enough to cover them whole.

Keith clings to Shiro’s biceps, nails digging in, face flushed pretty in deep pink, mouth forming an ‘o’ as his eyes fight to stay open, tongue peeking between two small and plump lips.

“You wanna ride, baby?” Shiro asks when Keith gives his hips a tentative roll. “You wanna show me how I’m yours?”

“Mine.” Keith says automatically, finding purchase on Shiro’s shoulders and moving his hips again. Shiro purrs noisily in approval and it only deepens as Keith shudders on his cock and lifts himself to let himself go.

“Fuck,” Shiro squeezes his eyes, arching his neck, his cock enveloped in Keith’s delicious tight warmth and pleasure washes over him in unmerciful waves.

Keith takes his fingers again, stuffs them into his mouth and starts sucking on them. Shiro rests his head against Keith’s, breathless and going marginally cross eyed as he watches Keith take his fingers. Unable to help himself, he slants his head and kisses Keith while his fingers remain in his mouth. It’s rough and messy and more spittle and grasping teeth than something coordinated but Keith’s whimpering and moaning incoherent strings of words that don’t make sense and Shiro gets the inexplicable urge to shove Keith down, complete his impalement and fuck him three rounds, leaving scratches and bruises that’ll make the prudish avert their eyes and the lecherous leer.

But no, he doesn’t want anyone to leer at Keith, Keith is his and every inch is his alone to admire.

He kisses Keith again, purring softly at the enthusiastic return of tongue he gets, at the fingers that grip his wrist and insistently shove his fingers deeper even as they kiss.

Shiro caresses Keith, running the edge of his blunt nails back and forth over his nipples and Keith chokes on the fingers inside his mouth. Shiro doesn’t stop. Doesn’t stop kissing him, doesn’t stop stimulating his nipple and doesn’t purring loudly enough to reverberate in Keith and make him shiver.

Keith is heaving hard when Shiro decides to have a little mercy and remove his fingers, his cheeks flushed and dry despite his eyelashes glistening with wetness, his eyes filled with unshed tears.

He looks so pretty it's painful.

Shiro decides to take a trick from the playbook of Keith’s dreams and grabs his chin, Keith’s lips automatically falling open for him. He gazes at Keith who looks back with arousal and calm trust as he casually fucks himself on Shiro.

“Baby, can I?” Shiro asks, thumbing Keith’s bottom lip, smearing more saliva than was already there.

Keith is blank for all of a second until he lets out a whimper, a hoarse curse and an unruly groan.

It’s all the permission Shiro needs before he’s gripping Keith’s face, thumb and middle finger digging into either side of his cheeks like forceps, holding his mouth hollow and open. He leans down to press a wet kiss to Keith’s open mouth, a burst of affection in his chest at Keith’s unwavering trust.

And then he spits into Keith’s mouth, the globules landing on his tongue. Keith holds his gaze as he swallows, as the tears start to fall from his eyes and he opens his mouth for more. Shiro lets it dribble slowly, lets his spittle pool onto Keith's tongue and Keith makes a ferocious sound as he closes his mouth, as he swallows, as he rides Shiro's cock and shudders. Shiro kisses him again before spitting, straight down his throat this time and Keith’s hips stutter before he whines, keens into Shiro in an arch and he’s coming.

Shiro wraps around Keith as he climaxes, holding him up and starting to thrust gently to help him ride it out. Keith’s moans turn into a litany of overstimulated pleas as Shiro gives him no break, snaking to his softening cock and wrapping an engulfing hand around it.

Keith removes his face from Shiro’s neck and looks at him. “Yours?”

“Yes,” Shiro growls, hips snapping, “You’re mine baby, all mine, every part of you.” _mate, mate, mate,_ Shiro’s mind rings with the word, _mine, I will protect you ‘til the very end._ He takes Keith’s mouth again, kissing him soft and slow, in stark contrast to his hard strokes.

He hasn’t formally claimed Keith as his mate, though not for a lack of desire. He knows Keith is aware of the importance, the gravity of that title as Galra, and it has been two years for them but he still does not wish to smother Keith or entrap him. He believes in them and perhaps it’s a little foolish to trust so vehemently in one thing, in one person, but he does, more than anything, more than anyone and one day he hopes Keith will accept it, accept him and be each other’s home on a level that insinuates infinity.

“Mine,” he grunts again, pressing his lips to Keith’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, the bridge of his nose, his jaw, his eyelid, his hair, his throat before dragging them back to Keith’s mouth and kissing him sound.

Keith is his. Shiro is Keith’s. They belong together. Up to Keith, Shiro never had violent urges in dealing with opposition or settling conflict. But civil and peaceful fly right out the window where Keith is concerned, when the subject of his mixed race comes in, when there’s talk of _not good enough for Shiro_ and _pathetic half breed_ is thrown around, even in Shiro’s presence, initially, as if Shiro was inclined to share their crooked views.

Shiro feels murderous in a way he never has before when they bad mouth Keith, when they degrade and belittle him and spread their hogwash to try and taint his achievements. How dare they? When Keith is remarkable in his own right, worthy and wonderful beyond anyone within the Castle walls or yet, the entire universe.

Shiro was quite oblivious to their vitriol in the beginning. He never factored in that anyone might question his coupling with Keith. After all, he was the one that felt unworthy, so incredibly fortunate that Keith would even spare him a moment of his day. Keith was exceptional, the only one coming close to beating the records Shiro had set in the Castle and in fact beating several of them and setting new heights to overcome. He was gorgeous to boot and seemed so oblivious to his own aptitude, his greatness. Proud, yes, but unaware of the extent he excelled and Shiro wanted to make him understand, pepper him with praise every waking moment until he was lathered in it like cream, dripping with it like honey.

Those who spoke ill of Keith in Shiro’s presence soon got what they deserved and news traveled to those who would yammer in the shadows too. But Shiro knows their poisonous whispers left a mark on Keith, stains of their doubts that he struggles to wash away. And when the need arises, when uncertainty crawls into their sacred and intimate space, on days Keith needs a little help shaking loose of the grip of their cruel and terrible whispers, Shiro is there; to love him, to hold him, to remind him that nothing but them matters and that it won’t ever change.

Shiro belongs to Keith. Keith belongs to Shiro. They belong together. It’s an inescapable fact, the black hole of truths, a singularity those who oppose will be forever weak to touch or undo.

Keith makes a high sound in his throat when Shiro grabs his hips, not breaking the kiss, and starts driving his pelvis up with more intent than he has all night. He is yet to bottom out but it's near, so near. Keith has more trouble focusing on keeping his mouth on Shiro’s so Shiro guesses he’s close too.

“Shiro!” Keith exclaims when Shiro gives a particularly hard thrust, back arching. His feet sit crossed at Shiro’s back, thighs tight and spread wide around Shiro’s waist and Shiro grabs one, his fingers meeting around the girth of it, and lifts. Keith falls back, pushing his hands out behind him on Shiro’s thigh for steadying purchase.

Shiro looks down at where their bodies join, watches how Keith stretches out around him, how he takes him in fluidly, inch by shining inch, sucking him in. He follows it to Keith’s long cock standing straight for attention, red and glimmering at the head, to the small distention in Keith’s slender and taut stomach, filling in and then flattening with Shiro’s strokes.

“Shiro,” Keith breathes raggedly, staring at Shiro with an expression that Shiro would call pain if he didn’t know better, “that’s you,” he brings a cradling hand to the bump, looking lost, starry eyed, stuck in a daze so deep he can only see Shiro and nothing else.

“That’s me.” Shiro whispers hoarsely, letting down Keith’s thigh to cover Keith’s hand with his own over the bulge in his belly. “Fuck baby, look at you, you’re so good for me,”

“For you, yes,” Keith agrees, nodding jerkily, slipping his palm from under Shiro’s to put his on top and push Shiro down against his own cock inside Keith, clenching simultaneously and Shiro chokes, almost bursting inside Keith right then.

“Keith, baby, _fuck,_ stop, stop that!” Shiro gasps like he’s dying and perhaps this is one form of death because there’s ascension, higher and higher, gripped by pleasure at the jugular and wanting to die with the man in his arms, wanting to go this way, with Keith looking at him beneath beautiful wet lashes, smug but just as awed and aroused as Shiro beneath that.

Keith bounces himself up, once, twice, when Shiro stays stock still, afraid to come earlier than he intends, his control on tenterhooks, “Shiro?” Keith says, cocking his head and filled with bemusement that should earn him a theatrics award, “Did I do something wrong?”

_“Did_ you do something wrong?” Shiro throws back at him in a low rumble, encircling his waist and starting to thrust again.

Keith stays silent for a short disoriented moment and when he looks focused again, he’s lost and stares at Shiro blankly.

Shiro laughs, finding himself helplessly enthralled. “I love you,” he kisses Keith’s nose, missing it narrowly and ending up smushed near his eye instead. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he reassures Keith, despite knowing it’s not necessary. “You feel so good baby, look, watch yourself. Watch what you let me do to you.”

“I’d let you do anything,” Keith says earnestly, grasping Shiro’s face and kissing him sweetly on the lips.

Shiro can’t stop rumbling, can’t stop purring, he’s wound with ecstasy and love and the hardwired urge to flip them and fuck Keith into the sheets.

“I know,” Shiro kisses him back, “but baby, you shouldn’t.”

“Shut up,” Keith scowls against his lips, “don’t say silly things.”

“No,” Shiro nips his lips, moves onto his chin, peppers kisses along his jaw, fucking faster, “not silly. Look at you baby, you’re magnificent.”

“Shiro please-” he loses his breath as Shiro pulls out to the tip and then pushes Keith down, down to his tight balls, bottoming out, “Shiro! Don’t stop, please- you feel so good, please-” he babbles on, clutching onto Shiro, pressed close as if the air between them is too much of a distance.

Shiro hushes him, holding him securely by his bottom, adding a grind to his strokes, “I won’t, I won’t. Come for me baby,” he feels Keith’s distension on himself and awe fills him up, just like the first time they noticed it, awe and reverence and a faint fear that he might break the man in his arms if he’s not careful. He angles his hips, knowing this time when he pushes up, Keith will fall apart because he’s spent so many hours of his life in the past years learning the nooks and crannies of loving Keith that no one else will ever have the right to. He snaps his hips and prods into Keith’s prostate and Keith let’s out a cry, arching in Shiro’s embrace but he still doesn’t come and Shiro’s mind is overridden with a single goal; to have Keith pulsing and adding to the mess he made on his chest.

He flips them, placing Keith on his back on the mattress and swallowing his surprised gasp with a kiss, as he continues to fuck him, sharp and hard and single minded.

Keith clings to him, scratches him, begs him over and over and Shiro encourages him _yes_ and _baby_ and _come on, let go_. Keith cradles his tummy bulge again, caressing it, his legs wide open to accommodate Shiro’s bulk, eyes shut with wet cheeks and puffy lips and begging for more even as Shiro gives him everything and Shiro is losing his mind.

“Yours,” Keith whispers distantly, as he rubs his tummy, “yours, yours,”

Shiro can’t repress the roar that’s ripped from his lips, the brutal pistoning of his hips as the sliver of control he was clutching to breaks free. Keith is his undoing, his collapse, his saving grace, all in one. _“Mine, mine,”_

Keith’s eyes fly open. His mouth sticks on a shocked gape as he keens up, breaks in two as he comes hard.

At his impossibly tight clenching, Shiro is sent overboard too with a growl of Keith’s name, shooting inside Keith, filling him with hot come and expanding the bulge on his skin. Keith whimpers and moans steadily, as if he’s lost control of his vocal cords, back remaining arched like he was sculpted that way and can’t change pose. Shiro fucks him gently through it, hips moving sporadically, weakly, a buzz inside him as they both bask in the aftershocks and come down.

“Keith?” Shiro asks when his mind is no longer misted with pleasure. Keith’s eyes are still closed, his chest barely moving. “Keith?” Shiro asks, alarm creeping into his voice. Shit, shit, did he hurt Keith? Did he crush him? _Fuck._ “Baby? Keith?” He nudges him gently and then more insistently when Keith still doesn’t reply and horror starts to grow rapidly inside him.

“Shiro?” Keith opens his eyes slowly, one by one, looking confused.

“Oh, fuck,” Shiro exhales, ready to cry with relief, “fuck baby, did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Keith’s skin is littered with darkening marks, around his collarbones, his neck, his chest. There are scratches running down his abdomen, angry red grooves on his hips where they’re beaded with dried unshed blood at the tips. “Oh my god,” Shiro says with terror, with abject horror. Did _he_ do that? He must have. Why didn’t he notice? Bile rises up his throat and he scrambles to remove himself from Keith, forgetting how deep he was buried inside and making Keith let out a shocked shout.

“Shiro! Shiro, relax,” Keith fumbles for him and Shiro only stills because Keith looks pained. “I’m good, please. See? I’m happy, Shiro.”

“Baby, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Let me- let me enjoy this, please?”he wraps his fingers around the part of Shiro’s shaft that’s not inside him and wiggles down, pushing him—and the come that leaked out—back in with a languid, obscene squelch and Shiro’s airway feels severed. “Come here.” he opens his arms and waits.

Shiro, unable to resist, hunches down, a little too quickly and sends them both groaning as his cock pushes all the way back inside Keith’s stretched hole.

“Keith?” Shiro asks as Keith’s lashes flutter shut again.

“Feels good,” Keith murmurs, “all of this, feels good, feels right, feel like yours.” he snuggles into Shiro’s chest, pulling him closer, pushing him deeper and letting out a content sigh.

“You are,” Shiro reassurances instantly, keeping his full weight off Keith but letting himself blanket his body as Keith obviously wishes.

“Can we stay like this?”

“You’re gonna be sore, baby,” Shiro kisses the black head burrowing into his chest, “we have to get you cleaned up.”

“I’ll be fine. Just a bit, please?”

“Okay,” Shiro whispers, giving in. And how can he not when Keith is making his own little purrs against Shiro? When he’s radiating content and warmth and smelling of sex and Shiro and his own distinct scent? “Tell me if it starts to hurt. Immediately, okay?”

“Ofay,” Keith says, muffled by Shiro’s thick pectoral where he’s smothered elatedly.

Shiro chuckles and presses another kiss to his head, running a hand down the discs of his spine, caressing the sides of his ribs and wrapping tightly around his waist, “Love you, baby.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i hope you liked that? i don't mean for my first contributions to the fandom to be all filth but uh, exam stress y'know? i'll be writing more plotted stuff after finals but in the meantime come be friends and chat sheith with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/inkandrainstorm) ♡


End file.
